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Peter sat on a small rock, staring out over the water and wishing there was no need for him to leave the island on the following day. It was some small consolation that Hecate would probably be going to Fessewarts with him, although he was well aware having her at the University was likely to create more problems for him. He was very unsure of her. It occurred to him that she might have some sort of split personality disorder; one part of her a huskette and the other part an extremely powerful witch. It was apparent that the huskette side of her knew nothing of the magical side.

More complex still, for Peter, was Hecate’s attitude to any physical relationship. It was outside his experience to encounter a witch, huskette or not, who at first appeared to have no interest whatsoever in any contact of that sort. Peter was quite familiar with the witches, and others like Lotta Bottomley, who used and abused wizards as and when they felt like it, but a witch who needed coaxing before she would so much as allow him to touch her was a completely new phenomenon. He wondered what his friends at Fessewarts would make of her.

“Dreaming?”

The voice seemed to come out of nowhere. Peter leapt from the rock, drawing his spell crop.

“You won’t need that,” said the voice from somewhere above him. “I’m not one of those dark wizards. I’m on your side.”

As Peter looked up to see where the voice was coming from, the witch jumped down from the rock beside him. At least, Peter assumed it was a witch because it was beyond credibility that anyone other than a witch or wizard could have reached the island. This particular female, however, looked less like a witch than any female Peter had ever seen.

“Please to meet you, Peter,” she said, holding out a hand, which Peter shook hesitantly.

She was short, with long blonde hair. Her eyes were a startling blue, at first, and then changed to a bright green before going through every colour of the rainbow until once again returning to blue. She wore a leather top unzipped almost to her waist, and tight leather trousers over which boots came up to just over her knees. The leather of her clothing was not the tough, practical leather Peter had noted on some of the more disreputable of the non-magical inhabitants in Asfixi-by-Mooning. This witch’s leather clothes were of a thin, supple leather, tight enough to leave no curve or crevice of her body to the imagination and, as Peter noticed as soon as he saw her, she had plenty of curves. It was also obvious that she wore nothing at all underneath the leather.

“I’m Nymphomona,” she told him.

“I’m Peter,” he replied, feeling particularly stupid when he remembered she had just greeted him by name.

“I know,” she said with a friendly smile that made him feel anything but stupid. “I suppose you came out here to get away from everyone who wanted to see the clump of green hair just to the right of your genitals shaped exactly like a peacock?”

“Something like that,” Peter admitted. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what are you doing out here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Nymphomona. “I came here to see you. I knew you’d be here sooner or later, but before you ask, I don’t particularly want to see the clump of green hair just to the right of your genitals shaped exactly like a peacock.”

“Good,” stuttered Peter, not quite sure how to take this very odd witch. “Um… what do you want?”

“Sex, of course,” said Nymphomona. “And I don’t subscribe to the ridiculous theory the Ministry is trying to teach to young witches and wizards, that physical pleasure for a witch has nothing to do with sex. It’s sex, pure and simple. I want it, and I want it with you.”

Peter was at a loss for words. “Why me?” he mumbled.

“Why not you?” asked Nymphomona. “I hear that so far this term at University, you’ve spent quite a lot of your time having sex with every female you could seduce, including one Professor Twist. I’m impressed, as apparently Professor Twist was impressed. That’s quite an achievement, Mr Peter Petter! Candice Twist has a reputation at the Ministry for ice-cold self-control, and as for sex – well, I’m sure you’ve already had to sit through several of her lectures. It doesn’t happen; not for Professor Twist, not with anyone, except, apparently, the great Peter Petter.”

“How on earth do you know about that?” demanded Peter. “No one knows about that, except possibly Herniame Grimwaite.”

“Of course I find you attractive,” Peter protested. “I just don’t want you to think… I mean, I don’t…”

Nymphomona sighed wearily. “Don’t go all shy, Peter. I’ll still respect you afterwards! I won’t think anything different about you, and I won’t tell anyone. All right? Does that cover it all?”

“It’s not that,” said Peter firmly. “It’s just that for part of this term I think there was something not quite right with me. All those witches, and Professor Twist, well, it’s not the sort of thing I usually do; not like that, anyway. I don’t know what it was, but I just felt I had to do it. I don’t feel like that now.”

“So you don’t want sex with me?” Nymphomona sounded disappointed.

“Well of course I want sex with you! You’re a very beautiful witch, and I’m a perfectly normal wizard.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” asked Nymphomona as though she had not been listening to anything Peter had said. “I told you to get your clothes off, and you’re still fully dressed. I don’t understand you, Peter. I’ve not met many wizards who don’t throw off all their clothes the moment I demand it!”

“You’re still fully dressed,” Peter pointed out.

“And I stay dressed,” she told him firmly. “I like the leather, and I don’t need to undress for sex.”

As she spoke, Nymphomona pulled with both hands at the leather between her legs. It parted, not very much, but leaving an adequate gap in the garment at exactly the right place.

“See?” she said. “Hurry up. Someone might come.”

“I…” Still Peter hesitated.

“Now or never,” said Nymphomona.

Peter undressed.

“Excellent,” said Nymphomona, and without another word, she lay down on the sand with her legs apart. “Now fuck me,” she ordered. “But don’t you dare ejaculate until I tell you. I like to be on top for that, and I want to have at least three orgasms first.”

“You’re not like ordinary witches,” Peter told her softly as he did his best to comply with her instructions.

“Thank you, Peter. But you’re still young. You’ll find that there are all sorts of witches in this world and… Oooh yes. Oh yes! Ah YES! Oh Peter, Peter, PETER!”

Much to Peter’s surprise, Nymphomona squealed and screamed not twice more but in fact four times more before, with remarkable strength and agility for a witch so small, she threw him onto his back and leapt on top of him.

“Now for you!” she snarled like a wild animal as she thrust down onto him. “DO IT!”

Peter did it almost immediately.

“Good boy,” she told him, stroking his cheek and squeezing his softening manhood with muscles that gripped more powerfully than any witch he had ever encountered. She held him, even as he became flaccid. However hard he tried, he could not have withdrawn from her.

“When you’re ready,” she told him, flexing her muscles to grip him even more tightly, “We’ll do it again.”

“Mona!” came a shout from the cliffs to their left. “Leave that poor young wizard alone!”

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